Cognizance
by Methrindal
Summary: Five years after the end of Ultimecia, times have changed. Friendships have crumbled, relationships have gone their separate ways, and a new world power has emerged. Throughout it all, life has gone on, and time continues to pass. Unbeknownst to the fated children, they are being targeted by an unknown force. It would take the death of one of their own to reunite them once more.


**_Cognizance_**

 **(1)**

"Leonhart?"

Irvine raised his head to meet the lifeless gaze of a smoky silhouette. The figure cloaked in his own cigarettes hazy secretion raised the thin cylinder of finely cut tobacco to his lips. His ensuing draw was just tight enough to elicit the slightest amount of unwilling satisfaction from his otherwise heavy features. His deep breath was matched by an equally long exhale, further polluting the smoke-filled room to its limits. The man's brow was furrowed in such a way that it revealed three or four new wrinkles that had formed within the last hard few years. His facial hair was relatively unkempt, with stubble maybe three or four days' old awaiting the inevitable edge of a freshly sharpened blade. He matched gazes with his old time partner, and cleared his throat.

"What's the call?"

"Signal 57." Irvine motioned toward his radio. "Another murder, just serviced. 61st Avenue drive, Vedra Beach."

That's only fifteen minutes from here.

Squall immediately crushed his cigarette into the ashtray until it was no more than an empty butt and discarded it promptly. He then reached for his desk drawer, pulled it open, and retrieved his service weapon, ID, and badge. He glanced at it.

 _Department of Worldwide Investigations, SeeD, Supervisory Special Agent, Squall Leonhart._

His grimace illustrated everything that needed to be said. His position of authority and influence had shortened dramatically over the years, whether he liked it or not. Ever since the gardens disbanded, and the rebirth of SeeD as a worldwide organization and power, there had been dissents in power all throughout the ranks, much to his chagrin. All of that was out of his control now, but his sense of justice and will to uphold his duty kept him line enough to accept the change.

"Let's go." He kept it short.

Irvine only nodded as he grabbed his things. With his supervisor, nothing much ever had to be verbally exchanged between the two, as it had always been the case.

Squall pulled on his coat snug and tightened his gun belt as he exited through the door to his office. His partner and longtime friend followed closely behind, but otherwise kept an unspoken but comfortable distance between the two. As they made their way to the exit of the SeeD headquarters, numerous employees stopped to give their supervisor their own iconic one arm salute, a solemn but respectful nod to his prior achievements and status of command. Squall remained impassive as he made his way passed his fellow subordinates. Their exit came swift and the pair were met with smoldering clouds of black and gray, a bleak shadow of the cities usual beautiful skies of blue.

"Another agreeable day in Dollet, huh?" Irvine quipped.

"Yeah." Is all he said.

He would rather say nothing, but he decided to humor his friend for the time being. Lightheartedness was sometimes needed for their line of duty, especially for what they were about to walk into.

The eddies of rain poured in seemingly sideways from the angry clouds above. The wind was fierce, and thunder clapped and danced across the skies, but the two marched on to their vehicle. It was warm and dry as they entered. Squall wiped his dripping brow and ran his hand through his dark, thick hair, which had become a sponge for the days foreboding weather.

"I didn't realize there was a tropical storm heading our way." Irvine said. He too was soaked from head to toe, although he wasn't too bothered about it. The years had been kinder to Irvine had they been to Squall. His appearance hadn't otherwise changed, except the fact that he lost the iconic hat of his gung ho past. He now wore nothing but his business casual clothes, his badge, and firearm at his hip. His smile softened as Squall returned him with concerned eyes.

"There wasn't."

He started the car. The engine hummed.

"What was the address again?" Squall asked.

"61st Avenue drive, Vedra Beach."

That address sounded familiar.

That's what piqued his interest so much about this case. He pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. It wasn't a far drive, but Squall already found himself being unnerved as they made their way through the evening traffic of Dollet City. Something in the back of his head told him that he had been there before, but he couldn't remember when. Maybe it was because of the Guardian Forces? He searched for an answer but only found speculation. It had been a few years since he ever used a Guardian Force, since he lost his license and SeeD defunded the GF Initiative. With that in mind, it couldn't be the answer unless memory loss extended past the use of those infernal beasts. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his foot applied more pressure on the gas panel ever so slightly.

Irvine noticed his partner's disquiet, and raised an eyebrow.

"Squall?" He questioned lightly. "Is there something wrong?" It wasn't everyday something unnerved his closest ally. They had been through it all together. Hell, they even travelled through time to kill an all-powerful Sorceress. They've seen every atrocity known to man. So what was bugging him?

"Not sure." Squall didn't quite know himself, but something in the back of his skull itched with trepidation.

The two went silent, and soon the soft hum of the car's engine and pitter-patter of the rain against the windshield was all that encompassed them.

Not much was said between the two and the drive forward was relatively uneventful. As they approached Vedra Beach, Squall lit up another cigarette to calm his nerves a little. Something didn't feel right, and he would find out very shortly why that was.

There had only been a few other times that Squall could remember where he felt nervous or anxious. He had been tortured, beaten, put through hell enough to where he could face anything with an undying will. He could count on one hand the times he had felt like this. So why? Why was he so nervous about this? He remembered the address from somewhere. Somewhere.

He pulled up to the address.

61st Avenue drive.

A line of fire trucks and police vehicles had already set up a perimeter around the road so nobody unauthorized could get through. Some neighbors were standing out in their front yards to see what all of the fuss was. Some looked puzzled, others frightened and wondering what is happening. They seemed to be older folk, maybe retirees.

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks could be heard from where they were. This was beachfront property. Mental notes took themselves as Squall's brain worked like a calculator to try and piece together a motive.

"Oh shit." Irvine pointed down the street. "The media is here already. How did they get past the perimeter?"

"They are going to love this one." Squall scratched the scruff of his beard inquisitively. Why are they here so early? Somebody must have tipped them off before DSO were called, but who?

Squall tightened his tie and exited his vehicle. Irvine followed suit.

The rain was still beating down ferociously, and the wind howled as fiercely as ever.

"Go tell those people everything is okay and for them to go back inside." Squall commanded.

"Yes sir." Irvine complied.

Squall looked around. People were arguing, sirens were blaring, there was a lot of commotion. Not a good area to conduct any sort of investigation. He decided to pursue a little further. He walked up to the closest officer.

"Where is your Supervisor?" Squall asked, flashing his badge. "I'm Special Agent Leonhart with SeeD Department of Worldwide Investigations."

"I am in charge here, s-sir!" The officer stuttered slightly, and cast him an incorrect SeeD salute. "What brings someone of your command out here?"

"Walk with me." Squall ignored the mistake. The officer complied. "SeeD has taken special interest in this case, and wanted to oversee the investigation and make sure everything goes as according to regulation. Make no mistake, we are not here to babysit, but I already see two regulation mistakes that need to be fixed immediately."

The officer looked surprised. "Tell me what is wrong sir. I will amend it immediately and reprimand those responsible."

Squall motioned to Irvine who was tending to the frightened neighbors. "My partner is already tending to the first issue. It's not so much a violation of code, but an ethical issue."

"Yes sir, I understand."

"However." Squall motioned to the media circus which was taking place outside of the victim's home. "Why in the hell is the media past the perimeter? That is a violation of code 42, section III. The media is impeding the investigation. Send them out immediately."

The officer spoke into his radio immediately. Squall caught a few curse words from the clearly agitated Sergeant but he otherwise didn't pay much attention to it. They were in front of the house in question now, if he could call it that. It was more like a palace, and boy was it a beauty. Beachfront property, and of great size and scale to boot. Two story, looked almost brand new, must have been built relatively recently. His gaze fell to the front door. It was large and towering, surrounded by six marble pillars. If a drug lord lived on the sandy beaches of Dollet, this home would certainly be residency to him.

They passed through the gate, and walked up the driveway.

"Who the victim?" Squall finally asked.

"Just one person." The Sergeant responded, flipping open a journal filled with notes. "Apparently the house is listed under a 'Jeremiah Windle', although by now we believe it's an assumed name and not legitimate. We found multiple falsified passports and licenses inside the home."

Squall pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with finesse. He flipped his lighter closed and glanced at it. He frowned.

"I've been here before. I know who lives here." He spoke darkly. He pocketed his lighter and took a long draw from his smoke. "Sergeant. Go back and find my partner. Tell him to come here immediately."

The officer nodded and took his leave.

He discarded the cigarette butt on the ground when he was finished, and with a step crushed it into the ground.

Within a minute, Squall reached the front door, which was open just slightly. As he entered, crime scene technicians were working diligently inside the house, placing evidence markers in many different areas. He noticed some dried blood on the door handle, and looked closely at it. Six or seven hours old, maybe a little less, he concluded. On the floor, large lines of blood led from the grand hallway, and up the stairs. He was careful not to disturb any of the evidence markers on the floor as he made his way up the grand staircase. It seems whoever made their way up here had one of their arteries punctured, as the amount of blood which adorned the floor was rather alarming. The stench of death was palpable. He followed it into the bedroom. For reasons he did not know, he wasn't surprised at what he saw.

There, on the bed, was the corpse of Seifer Almasy.

Squall walked up to the body of his former enemy.

He looked peaceful, for a dead man anyway. He was shirtless, his pants leg stained with blood. Femoral artery must have been cut. Death was no doubt swift, he had maybe three or four minutes to live.

He remembered why he felt like this place was familiar to him. He remembered why he felt an unnerving sensation as he drove here.

Four years ago, he brought Seifer here. He entered the witness protection program under SeeD, he assumed a new name, erased his past and former history as a traitor to all humanity.

But why did he forget?

Why couldn't he remember this?

Squall's mind worked like a computer. He was cold and calculating even under the condition that someone so close to him had been killed. There was an easy conclusion. Seifer was assaulted outside of his home, made his way to his bed and lost consciousness. He died shortly after.

Was there a clear motive?

No. Something was not right.

He peered around the room. Nothing appeared to have been taken. Nothing out of the ordinary appeared to have taken place in this room, save for the dead man on the bed. He wasn't holding anything and nothing stood out too much. He heard footsteps coming from behind

"What the fuck?" Irvine gasped as he entered the room.

"Yeah." Squall said, holding out a smoke. "Seifer lived here."

Irvine took the proffered cigarette as Squall flipped open his lighter. He lit it wordlessly, and the soft hum of the burning material was all that danced between their ears, and then a sudden silence.

Squall took his leave without a word, leaving Irvine to ponder why someone would want to kill someone so lost to history as Seifer was.

For the next hour, Squall made a few phone calls and searched the house and its surrounding area for clues as to who murdered his former enemy and why. He found it difficult to work in the heavy downpour, which showed no sign of recess. No doubt much evidence was lost in the floods, he concluded. Anything less than a thorough investigation would not bode well for SeeD or its reputation, especially when it leaks to the media who really was the victim of murder here tonight. Soon he found himself sitting in his car. His only comfort was the storm's wrath and the window wipers swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Irvine was on the phone with someone, presumably Selphie Tilmitt, his estranged lover and another close friend of times distant past.

He flipped open his notepad and began to write.

 _The murder of Seifer Almasy_.

Former frenemy, turned arch-nemesis. He was groomed to be a top SeeD, but never passed the entrance exam. Hot headed and unpredictable, he rushed to the aid of the Timber Owls, and the rest was history. Seifer was indoctrinated by Ultimecia, under the guise that he was fulfilling his 'romantic dream', and he fell slave to her evil bidding. They had stopped her of course, and with that the spell was broken. Seifer claimed that he was innocent, he pleaded not guilty of his crimes by reason of mind control. The heads of SeeD, appreciating his candor then cut him a deal that he otherwise couldn't refuse. Testify against key Galbadian leadership to bring them to justice, or be executed without ceremony within the hour. It was clear which one he picked. With this, two key issues were neutralized: Seifer was entered into the SeeD witness protection program. He went under a new name, all records of his past were erased, and the dominating Republic of Galbadia was in shambles from their loss of political power.

Some questions were raised about where Seifer Almasy vanished too, but only some knew. Those few being within the higher echelons of the most secretive agency in the world. Most didn't care however, and soon the once traitor to the world disappeared without fight nor fuss.

Squall frowned slightly, and took another draw from his cig. The cancerous smoke filled his lungs, and momentarily he felt a sense of clarity.

His eyes narrowed.

The laceration on Seifer's leg, the wound which felled a man seemingly invincible.

It looked to be from a gunblade.

 _Maybe,_ just maybe, somebody from Galbadia's past wanted to rid the world of Seifer? It wasn't unbelievable, as he was the man responsible for their fall from grace. It was certainly the most plausible lead that he had, but where could he start from there?

"Galbadia." Squall spoke softly to himself.

"What's that?" Irvine said as he hung up the phone. "Damn that woman, can't ever have a normal conversation with her."

Squall understood his partners dismay. He wasn't the only one with problems including women in his life. Maybe…? No, it's over. It's in the past now, and he should leave it that way.

"I think Galbadia might have something to do with our old friend's death." Squall said, tossing his notepad to Irvine. He caught it. "Take a look at that. The width and diameter of the laceration on Seifer's leg, looks like a gunblade's work, don't you think?"

Irvine nodded in silent understanding.

"I'm going down to the beach." Squall opened the door and extended his umbrella. "Stay here and watch the car."

"The beach?" Irvine questioned. "Why?"

"Because something might have been washed down there from the floods."

"Right."

Squall gave him a stern look and shrugged. "What other leads do we have?"

With that, he shut the door and looked over yonder. The rain was beginning to falter to a steady but easy shower. The floodwaters had already receded down into the ocean. Maybe it's too late.

His pace was even as he made his way past the house. There was a sharp cliff which jutted out over the dark and twisted ocean. He looked down to see waves crashing down against jagged rocks, but otherwise nothing else of interest. He then took a step back, tripping over something encased in the mud and water.

What the hell?

He dropped his umbrella and reached into the puddle, gripped it, and withdrew the object from its grimy sheath.

It shined like a beacon as if it had been freshly forged. Clearly, it had been taken care of enough to the point where time had not affected its quality. It was sharp, and the contours of its blade iconic enough for Squall to know immediately who this belonged to.

Seifer's gunblade.

But why was it out here? Maybe Squall had a miscalculation or two.

In his hands, he could be holding the murder weapon, or maybe not. Seifer could have used this to defend himself from the assailant, whoever that may be. Then again, this blade could have been used to deliver the killing blow to its own master, the ultimate irony. He couldn't see any blood on it with his naked eye, just some muck and grime from where it lay deep inside the puddles of water. It's very clear why nobody discovered it before he.

He would have to send it off to Deling to get it tested, then for sure he could make a ready conclusion.

The man's fingers gripped tightly around the blade, and he held it in the same stance he used all those years ago. It had been years since he held a gunblade. It was a nostalgic feeling. He remembered how Seifer would hold his blade in the incorrect manner, but he was just as deadly as himself with it, all the same.

A noise, the rush of leaves. He caught something in the corner of his eye. Something shifting in the bushes. He turned around, gunblade readied in his defensive stance.

He stood there, holding his breath, but nothing came out.

The wind blew and the rain continued its endless march across the sky, but that was it.

Ghosts of his past, maybe? That's right, he was jumping at ghosts now. He frowned to himself, and let out a deep, breathy sigh as he lowered the blade.

Seifer was the first victim, he realized. Maybe he won't be the last? Who would be the next to fall? He didn't waste any time in speculation. His friends needed to be warned and quickly. Friends whose bond was once unshakable, who all shared destiny, and one by one, were split apart by times natural flow.

Squall looked around himself one last time as if he was being watched, and decided it was time to conclude the night for now. He picked his umbrella up.

The walk back to his car was relatively uneventful.


End file.
